It was a quiet morning in Asgard, and the sun had barely crept over the trees. It lit the palace towers a shining gold, so bright it hurt the eyes – but out here was a world of hushed greens and the rustling breeze. The gardens were filled with flowers of every colour and description, but Loki had always preferred the orchard. Perched in the branches of an oak as ancient as the stars, the young prince was, as ever, engrossed in his reading. Thor had always favoured weapons to the written word, brute strength to books, but at eleven years old the younger son of Odin had a mind of tales and tricks. This morning, he was supposed to be sparring with Thor in the courtyard, but had made his escape before anyone else rose. Hiding out would have its consequences later, but for now, the boy was at peace. He flicked the page softly, the movement so automatic it didn't interrupt the flow of the words.

And the armies of Asgard bore down upon the citadel of ice...

Drawn in as he was by the history of the glorious conquest, Loki didn't hear the echoed whooshing sound which rolled through the silence.

The frost giants were defeated and the casket taken from Jotenheim, though at great cost...

The blue box materialising beneath the trees went unnoticed, the two figures emerging from it wandering out towards Loki's tree. It was only when the younger of the pair, a girl, spoke aloud that he became aware of their presence.

"This isn't Barcelona, Doctor! We're in a forest!"

Loki looked up, instinctively pulling back into the cover of the leaves. A male voice answered, "Well, excuse me for confusing my co-ordinates every now and again! Nine hundred years of travelling time and space will do that to a guy!"

Peering out, the young Asgardian caught a glimpse of the intruders. For intruders they were, he was certain – no servant would be dressed like that, and it wasn't as if the Allfather would have come looking for him. He never did.

"Where are we, anyway?" the young woman asked, impatiently fixing blonde hair. He had never seen someone so extraordinarily dressed, and with such a short skirt.

"Um..." Her partner, a man clad in the most extraordinary leather tunic Loki had ever seen, twirled about and scrutinised their surroundings. He must have glimpsed the distant palace as he cried out, "Looks like Asgard! Barcelona, Bifrost, easily confused...I haven't been hear in centuries..."

Loki was unsure of what to do. He couldn't begin to fathom how to escape – he could attempt magic, but that was risky. He wasn't strong enough to overcome to grown adults...unless he made himself invisible, and got away.

Closing his eyes, the young prince focused. Mother had been teaching him her tricks, and he felt fairly confident he could vanish from view.

Loki felt the familiar sensation tingle across his skin, and knew he had faded into the air, invisible to the naked eye. Silently, he left the book tucked between two branches and began a quiet, sneaking descent. He moved swiftly and confidently, but, unhappily for the boy, he had never been as agile or as strong as Thor. This, combined with the fact that he couldn't see his own hands, caused him to miss his grip and fall, tumbling into the grass with a yelp. The ground was hard, and he simply lay there and moaned for a moment.

Opening his eyes, Loki flicked dark hair from his eyes and sat up painfully, stiff, sore and very, very visible.

The blonde girl looked down at him in surprise, but her friend seemed merely amused.

"Hallo," he said happily, extending his hand. "I'm the Doctor!"